


The Butterfly Effect

by LesserPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deathly Hallows AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesserPrincess/pseuds/LesserPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as the Ripple Effect, the Butterfly Effect states that one small change in a nonlinear system can cause large differences later in time.  What would have happened if the event at the Astronomy Tower had gone differently?  What would have happened if someone listened to every scream echoing from their bones? What if Dumbledore lived?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Battle at Astronomy Tower

It had been weeks, though it felt like ages.  As spring turned to summer, and summer to fall, the voice whispering through the cupboard grew more and more agitated.   _"When then?"_  Was repeated.   _"When then?  When will it be right?"_ He then preached about the importance of timing, and how the most victorious were often the most patient.  To this, the pressing witch would bow her head in disdain and mutter to herself about the questionable decisions of the Dark Lord.  She was his aunt, but he knew she would be the first to curse him if he made even the smallest incantation of a false move.  Bellatrix Lestrange didn't care if one was her own flesh and blood, her loyalty was determined by Voldemort.

Luckily, he’d been able to buy himself time with his speeches and his mother’s defensive backbone.  Time for what exactly, he wasn’t sure.  He hadn’t told anyone about the vanishing cabinet, not Crabb, Goyle, not even Pansy.  He was supposed to.  He was supposed to spread the word of the impending infiltration so the young members associated with the Death Eaters would be ready to fight if necessary; yet, he didn’t.  He was also ordered to invite the attacking party as soon as Hogwarts was accessible, but he didn’t.  Why?  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  As he meandered the halls alone--looking for nothing but a place to go, a place to move forward to, a place far from where he was--he ignored this question, and continued to do the only thing that felt right: walking.  Time after time again, Filch would ask _“What are you doing out of bed?”_ in which he’d respond _“I don’t know.”_  The Squib thought he was being a smart ass, but in reality he was just telling the truth.  He might be a Slytherin, a member of the house stereotyped for lying and cheating, but he was no liar; at least, not directly.

He considered himself more of an actor than anything.  He acted as though every year, despite his emotions growing broader and his mind expanding wider to find reasoning and empathy, he went unbothered by the types of things his father would say at the dinner table.  He also acted as though he didn’t notice his mother’s expression mirrored his own, but she did much better to hide it under a napkin as she’d had several more years of practice.  He acted like he approved when he saw a serpent, the animal that represented him and his qualities, attack a woman and kill her while she writhed in her own blood.  He acted as though he were unafraid.  The fear came in waves, like a rising tide.  Every year was a little more, than a little more.  But as he crept up on his 17th birthday, the fear became worse every day, every hour it seemed.  Somehow, he was able to convince those around him that his shaking was a symptom of excitement due to the upcoming ‘reunion’.  He wore a cape of darkness and smiled through the folds.  But soon, he’d said it so many times he had himself convinced.  However, this masking elation didn’t last long.  For he remembered all the times as a boy when he was happy.  He remembered riding on a broom for the first time with his father.  He remembered how he felt when he came home from school first year and the house elves had prepared his favorite meal as a welcome home celebration.  The events didn’t have him vomiting in the middle of the night.  They didn’t give him nightmares.  They didn’t chronically turn him as white as the ghost he wished he was.  They didn’t make him afraid to come home.  The gamekeeper always spoke about how Hogwarts is the safest place.  He always disagreed because being with your parents, the people who love you and who will always take care of you, are the people who know you the most and who will protect you.  Right?  As he came to find out, the gameskeeper--who he constantly called an oaf--was right, over his 12 year old ignorant self.  Hogwarts was not home, it was far from it, and that’s why he felt safe.

They couldn’t reach him there; the couldn’t command for him to do things there.  Hot breath down the back of your neck wasn’t a constant pressure when there was no one there to breathe.  It wasn’t like the breath breathing down his neck right now.

They expected him to be loyal, they expected him to fulfill his duties; it was the end of the year, he’d run out of time.  The fear of being caught by one (or several) of the teachers while roaming the halls with some of the most wanted criminals nipping at your heels while you searched for Dumbledore wasn’t anything compared to what was happening now.

He felt her cold hand on the back of his shoulder as she leaned in close, facing the same man he had his wand pointed at.  “Come on, Draco.”  Bellatrix said, sneering.  “Do it.” ****

Looking into kind, blue eyes, a squeak escaped his throat.  Every bone in his body was screaming for him to lower his wand, the very piece which felt like stone in his hand.  The night was cool, the stars welcoming and the slight breeze blew air into his overhung mouth, but the boy could not find his ability to breathe.  He knows.  Draco thought.  He’s figured me out; he knows.

“Draco, please,” he began, “You don’t have to do this.  Lower your wand, son.”

He knew why Draco was always alone.  He knew why he was seemingly obsessed with a boy who could have no interference in his life if he chose so.  These corresponded with the same reason he spoke a little too loud with Snape after Slughorn's party that night.  "I can't."  Tears dampened his face, the cold then chilling them against his face.  "I have to do this."

"Draco-" Bellatrix snarled from the other side of the balcony.  He couldn't look at her.  The blond drew in a breath, his hand shaking in front of him.  Dumbledore stared at him with such a gentleness in his expression it seemed as though, instead of standing in their current places, they were at a lovely Christmas party and he'd just given him a gift.  "I said do it, Draco!"  Her shrill voice sounded again and he closed his eyes.

"You always have a choice-"

"He knows what his choice is!"  The crazed woman began to argue with the headmaster.  She approached from behind the young wizard with such a gait, he thought she was going to push him over and finish the job herself.  His thoughts stifled her further argument.

He looked to his left, and then to his right.  Rowle, Smith, Clausson, Bellatrix, and Snape, all there with him; five highly trained, lethal Death Eaters and a 17 year old, whose dark mark still had a rash around it from the inking.  The sudden shout of his name snapped him from his trance.  When he looked up, he witnessed the fire ripping through his aunt's eyes while she stood there with her wand angled at her side.  You cannot run from fire, not when your only other direction is off a cliff into crashing waves a hundred feet below.  However, you also can't run into fire.  What was he to do?  Jump into the water knowing the possibility of getting swept in the current, or remain still, forever burning in the flames?  A warmth spread through his stomach, a warmth that melted the ice which had taken root.  His heart began to beat faster and he was alive for the first time in months.  One last tear rolled down his cheek.  It toppled off at his chin, and a single drop splattered on the wood below.  

"Stupefy!"  He screamed, suddenly thrusting his wand in a different direction.  Bellatrix was blown backwards and her limp body hit the support beam behind her. The wand of the biggest threat rolled from its master’s hand.

And there were lights everywhere.  Draco was pushed back by a force that didn't feel like a spell, but an arm.  His back stung as it slapped against the ground.  Regaining position and sitting up he saw Severus Snape, his potions master, standing in front of him.  For a brief moment he watched.  Snape redirected a stunning spell from Rowle so that it hit Clausson.  Unfortunately for Clausson, the spell blew him far over the railing of the tower.  

"Go, Malfoy!"  He directed.  The teen, in utter shock of what he'd just done, could do nothing but stare at the man's back as he dueled.  He was so dazed, he barely had enough focus to throw himself in the opposite direction of a green light that'd found its way around his protector.  "I said go!"

Shook back into reality by the killing curse, he scrambled to his feet with his wand in hand and made it to the spiral staircase.  As soon as his foot reached the first step, a red light zoomed so close to his ear that he could hear the sizzling of whatever harsh magic the color contained.  Just trying to get away he didn’t turn back, which was a grand mistake, as he would have seen the bit of blue being hurled at him.  It hit him in the lower back, and though the spell itself didn’t hurt much, it forced him to go face first tumbling down the staircase.  Losing his wand on the way, he groped the area around the floor where his body met the landing.  Panicked, his eyes couldn’t focus on anywhere long enough to find anything.  “Accio-”  He shouted, and just as his wand met his hand once again, the floorboards to the right of his head ruptured.  

Rowle came stomping down, and leaned over the railing to get a better aim.  Once again, Draco shifted his weight to roll on his stomach and away from the next curse.  The curse blew past him a little ways before hitting the ground, where it too exploded.  As wood shards sprayed the room, he could feel a twinge in his cheek where one of the pieces undoubtedly had sliced him.  It seemed as though the dark wizard didn’t expect his spell to go that way, as he was seemingly thrown off balance from the force.  

“Confingo!”  He spat, throwing his arm so hard he thought he might have dislocated it by the time flames erupted from the tip of his wand.  Rowle ducked, but the spell hit the wooden banister, which then burst into flames. He then turned his attention to an object which had been revealed shortly after the explosion that he never got the proper chance to look at.  It was an ankle, simply peaking out of nothing.

“Potter.”  Draco mumbled to himself.  Though it was an odd sensation, a feeling of relief spread through him.  Looking back at the staircase to ensure he had time, he blew the cloak off it’s owner and used a counteractive spell to bring mobility back to the boy underneath.  The dark haired wizard squirmed to life and grabbed his wand.  Draco held up his hands.  “Wait! I’m on your side-”

“Everte Statum!”  Harry screamed, but it wasn’t at him.  Still, the blond ducked and turned to see the spell dissolve into the wall while Rowle moved along the baseboards on his hands and knees.  Before he had the chance to collect himself, the two boys were throwing curses simultaneously.  Draco cast a shield charm over the both of them to protect against what looked like expelliarmus, the then other stunned the Death Eater in his position on the floor.  They both looked up when they heard the familiar laugh that resembled nails on a chalkboard; someone had woken Bellatrix.  Rushing over to the foot of the stairs, they could see streams of black circling around the height of the tower.  While trying to count the force they were up against, Harry was shot at from the top of the staircase and the effort was reciprocated.  “How many are there?”  He shouted through the chaos.

“I don’t know, I can’t say for sure.”  Draco responded, shielding his body with one of the support poles.

“How’d they get in?”

“There’s a vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement,”  A blue light whizzed past his shoulder and a man he recognized began down the stairs.  “Glisseo!”  The stairs flattened to a slide and the Death Eater slipped, and was then sent sliding down on his back; Harry stunned him on his way down.  He turned to him once more.  The other narrowed his eyes at him from his post, his mouth left slightly parted in repugnance.  Of all the times he’d attacked Harry, in any shape or form, he’d never seen this arrangement of expressions before.  Normally, he was stone cold anger that was easy to read, easy to mess with, but this was indecipherable. “I know, it doesn’t make sense.  But you need to trust me, I’m with y-”

“Yeah, you’ve proven that.”  An unsuspecting wizard trampled down, not suspecting the slope.  He slipped onto his stomach and before gravity could think about letting him slide Draco froze him solid.  Harry looked at him again.  “Are they anywhere else in the castle?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way then.”  He peeked around at the top of the landing, more spells were being shot than ever before.  Harry swallowed; it was just Snape and Dumbledore up there. Though the other wasn’t yet aware of it, Harry had seen what transpired only moments ago.  He  saw every move made through the bottom of the staircase.  In that he saw that Dumbledore had been right all along; Snape was on their side.

A sudden stream of light hit Draco in the chest, causing him to be blown backwards into the wall behind him.  This silent attack drew Harry’s attention away from the battle upstairs and to the figures moving about at the end of the corridor.  Though he was his new ally, Harry still found some pleasure witnessing Draco get knocked off his feet.  Still, he rose his hand and a white light erupted from his wand as he aimed it at the door the attackers had taken cover behind.

“Stupefy!”  They recuperated.  Harry ducked but did nothing further, he recognized that voice.

“Hermione-”  He called out.  

“Harry!”  She shouted back.  He broke out into a wide grin when his two friends emerged from behind the doorway.  Whilst, Draco clambered to his feet and moved somewhat behind him, trying to use him as a barricade between the two new soldiers. Ron immediately rose his wand at the sight of the blonde, but Harry rushed forward and seized his best friend's arm.

“Don’t.  He’s with us.”  He advised.  Ron and Hermione looked from one to the other with great concern and confusion.  Squinting and staring at Harry, Ron refused to lower his arm completely.  Harry stared back.  No matter how he worded it, the story of the last hour would take just that to explain; they didn't have that kind of time.  "You just have to trust me.”

A dark figure came crashing through the railings and landed on the floor at the other end of the room.  Before Harry could act, Ron and Hermione were already making their way up to the battleground.  He followed suit, but sensed the uncertainty behind him.  He pivoted on his heel to look at wizard behind him.  The grey eyed boy stood there, looking back and forth between the fight and the door.  Why am I wasting my time?  Harry thought and immediately turned back around, but as he ran up the steps, he heard those that followed suit. With his hand on the railing, he turned again to find Draco Malfoy straight at his heels.  At Harry's gaze, the teen looked down with a mixture of fear and regret etched upon his face.  In that moment, Harry almost felt sorry for him.

Both boys looked up when they heard Ron’s voice sound from above.  Harry’s feet trampled up the stairs without grace and by the time he reached the top landing he already had a curse at his lips.  It rolled off his tongue and was sent spiraling towards a wizard who looked more like an animal than a man.  He could hear a slight squeak behind him as Malfoy laid eyes on him, and within seconds Harry could see why.  Standing at his maximum, he appeared extremely tall, taller than Ron, and very well built.  The dark wizard laughed as he blocked the spell with ease, and the boys could see his sharpened teeth peeking through his bloody mouth.  It was only then did Harry realize members of the Order had come to their rescue, for when he looked at the body crawling out from underneath this man, he recognized the long, ginger hair of Bill Weasley. Malfoy pulled Harry out of the way of a curse, and Ron sped past them in a manner Harry had never seen before.

Curses and words that did not match them flew from Ron's wand and mouth.  "That's my brother you-!"  He screamed, punctuating every word with a different light.  Hermione soon accompanied him.  She stood at his side, defending him from the curses coming from all directions he was blind.  Now dueling side-by-side with Tonks, Harry watched them.  Just like himself, Ron exhibited a nasty habit of letting his emotions fuel him in battle.  He attacked one man, and one man only.  

"Stop," Bill screamed, holding his pulsing wounds and searching for his wand, "Stop, Ron, Stop!"

From the corner of his eye he saw Snape evaporate into thick smoke and fly straight into a similar looking cloud which had been circling the tower.  His eyes ventured across every inch of the tower; Dumbledore was no where to be found.

Hermione could barely keep up with the two Death Eaters who decided to encircle them from behind. She stumbled, her back hitting Ron's, causing the domino effect and him to lurch forward.  Defenseless while off her feet, a green light was aimed for her chest. Harry redirected his wand but he was too late.  

"Protego-" was shouted from across the room and a glimmering blue barrier was cast over her.  Due to his decision to cast his wand in another's direction, Draco Malfoy was hit from the side and flung into the air.  A masked man involuntarily broke his fall.

There was a growl, and Bill regained his wand.  Attacking the man who tried to kill Hermione, he unexpectedly launched a stunning spell which caused the unsuspecting figure to fly over the banister.  Now with only one woman to fight, Hermione stood with her back to Ron once again and, though shaken from the latest event, was able to move adequately.  

Tonks, Bill, Lupin, and Fleur helped in defending the tower. Thankfully, Fleur had had her back to her fiancée when he was attacked and she had her back to him now.  If she'd seen the blood leaking from his face, Harry was sure her main priority would cease to be the war unfolding in front of her.  Even as he was dueling, Harry would notice Tonks whip her head around between spells, undoubtedly looking for Lupin.  For a split second, he thought of his parents.  His father pushing himself between Voldemort and the entryway leading to his wife.  Then his mother screaming his dad's name in desperation, hoping madly that somehow or someway he'd made it through the darkest wizard of that age.  He even looked at Ron and Hermione.  Ron mercilessly battling his brother's attacker out of anger and doing it well, while Hermione--knowing Ron's and that he won't stop until his vengeance is met--gave him room to breathe but silently aided his quest from behind.  This was all very strange to him, because while everyone else seemed to be thinking about those they love, all he could think about was fighting and getting out alive.  Of course Ron, Hermione, and Lupin had all crossed his mind.  He loved them, all of them, but one person, the person he should have been thinking of most, failed to break through the barrier.  Ginny.  He thought, but only for a brief moment as a wood panel was thrown his way.  He gripped Tonks by the shoulders and took her to the ground with him.  

The tide of Death Eaters seemed to have come to halt, but looking around Harry noticed that Malfoy was nowhere to be found.  Seeing that Tonks had finally seized the upper hand on the man the two were dueling, Harry turned to see Hermione and Ron in the same position.  He couldn't help but grin as he witnessed Ron rebounding every curse thrown at him and using the most unique dueling methods, such as bouncing spells of metal and using the objects around him.  Hermione was even footed with the witch she'd taken up, but then did as Rod had done and used the metallic orb to reflect her stunning spell in a manner she couldn't defend herself from.  The woman's mask was blown off as she was sent backwards into the hole leading down to the floor below.  When she turned, she found Ron had finally disarmed his opponent by none other than kicking him in the arm, causing his wand to go sailing in the air.  In a flash of brown hair, Hermione stepped forward to catch it when Bellatrix apperated to the side of them.

"Filthy blood traitor!"  She yelled, raising her wand directly at the ginger.  

"No," The words Harry whispered escaped his mouth as a defensive spell should have. As Ron turned his head in reaction of being called out, Hermione had already twisted herself around and pressed up against him, using herself as a human shield. Her scream ran through the tower, and Harry could feel the pain she felt as the sound echoed in his heart.  In an attempt to catch her, Ron dropped his wand.  

Harry's green eyes found Lupin, then Bellatrix  and the man Harry finally pieced together as Fenrir Greyback.  Both their mouths had corners slightly turned up and eyes narrowed in satisfaction.  As Harry rose his wand the two concaved into smoke and disappeared into the sky above them. Harry was thrown forward onto the floor from behind, and he with a quick glance through the pain of his back, he realized Lupin laid motionless in a pile of rubble.  One man sent Fleur through the wall behind her, and immediately charged at Ron.  

Cradling Hermione in his arms, he looked up with merely a flicker of the eye.  Harry then began to think he got hit too hard, because as soon as Ron's eyes met those of the charging man, he stopped in his tracks.  His mouth parted and noise came from deep within his throat.  Ron's eyes narrowed and crimson began to line the man's lips.  His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe, both hands reached up to grab at his neck, leaving his wand free for gravity to take.  Ron lunged his hand it the air and summoned it before it hit the ground.  In a fluid motion, starting from when it reached the palm of his hand, he rung it around his head and threw a flash of white light.  The man was sent into the air.

Harry struggled with a man on top of him.  He hurt from the curse, his back stung, ached, and his whole body was exhausted; yet he fought on.  Somehow, wands had been discarded and they were left using their hands.  His knuckles hurt after he managed to get one good punch in, but that pain was much more tolerable than that of another's fist to the teeth or temple.  Due to the cloaked man's tight grip, he was slightly lifted off the ground when the man was blown off him.  Though his vision was spinning, he was expecting to be able to make out Ron or Tonks as his savior, but instead he saw Malfoy emerging from the staircase.  He rolled over and retrieved his wand but when he sat up he realized there was no one left to fight.  

Battered and bloody, everyone crowded in the center.  Everyone except Lupin, who was waking from his slumber with a moan, and Ron, who had been pushed aside and was now sitting on the ground being supported by the wall behind him.  His legs were bent at the knee and his hands, drenched in blood that was not his own, shielded his face.  Even at a distance, Harry could tell his best friend was shaking uncontrollably.  He ran his eyes over him again, not only was his skin stained, but his clothes were also tainted red.

"Fleur!" Bill's voice broke Harry of his trance.  Getting to his feet, he made his way to the circle.  Tonks stood with her hand over her mouth, and Fleur let a tear leak from her eye as she looked at her fiancée.  He had taken off his jacket in an attempt to soak the blood from the wound, which Harry suspected was continuing to bleed profusely.  He knelt by his friend's head, trying carefully not to step on her hair, not that she would feel it over the pain she was already experiencing.  She was white as ash, and for a second, he thought they'd already lost her, but the flicker of her eyelid when she saw him caused a ripple of hope.  

Bill shouted the name again, but the same woman just looked down at him miserably.  He looked down at Hermione.  "It's alright, we're going to fix you.  You're alright, it's not that bad-" a squeak in his voice cut him off as he fumbled with the sweater which was soaked beyond use.  Without even thinking about it, Harry stripped of his jacket and supplied it in replacement; Bill took it in desperation, tossing aside the old one.  For a split second the extensiveness of her injuries were viewable.  Several deep, elongated cuts continued to seep through her shirt. They were carefully cut, precise, but placed sporadically across her lower abdomen.  It was too clean to be an animal attack, but too messy to be surgical.  

A crack came from behind them.  He peered over his shoulder to see his potions professor striding towards them.  The crowd parted, and with a swift push Bill was out of the way.  It was all too familiar for more than one person in that room.  This had happened once before in the boys bathroom not too long ago.  Snape had said the exact same words from the exact position on the ground, but instead he was directing them at Draco Malfoy; the boy who was standing across from him now.  

 _Sectumsempra_.

The bleeding ceased, but the danger was imminent.  

"I've done what I can do.  Get her to the infirmary, now."  Snape demanded, getting up and heading down the staircase.  Footsteps came from the corner and Lupin held his head in his hands.

"Remus!"  Tonks cried and flung her arms around his neck.  He warmly accepted her embrace as he rubbed her back, assuring her he was alright.  

Fleur crouched by her husband-to-be and began wiping his blood coated hands with a piece of torn cloth.  From what Harry could hear, she was trying to convince him to go to the infirmary as well.  Though the wounds to his face were extensive, they were not life threatening, and he didn't want to take attention away from those who needed it.  More members of the Order arrived.  One took Hermione in his arms and sped off in the proper direction while the others interviewed their co-members.  Pushing others out of the way, he crouched down beside Ron, who now had his entire head hidden underneath the arms folded over his neck, and the knees his face was buried in.  He placed his hand supportively on his shoulder, but that shoulder ripped itself from his grasp.  He looked at him for a second before saying,

"Ron," but the body clambered away.

"Don't." He said sternly, finally lifting his face.  He was as pale as Hermione was, but it had nothing to do with blood loss.  "Don't touch me!"  He demanded.  Harry could hear his breaths getting quicker as he looked about the room in a panic.  He hand flew to his chest in his attempt to catch his breath, but the color caught him by surprise.  His shriek was stifled by a sob as he attempted to wipe the dry crust on his hands away.  He stumbled backwards before completely turning and making his way to the railing, where Harry could then see the flow of bile coming from his mouth as he bent over the edge.  Wiping his mouth, he slid down the adjacent wall and his behind his arms again.  It only took a split second look to know Ron was sobbing again.

McGonagall came up the stairs, accompanied by Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick.  Her arms were held out to stop the others as if there were still a danger lurking at the top of the stairs.  

"How did this happen?"  She questioned, but no one was paying snouty attention to give an answer.  She move forward to the center of the floor, her eyes widened in shock by the puddle she found.  "Is that- is that from Miss Granger?"  She looked from side to side, looking for anyone who would give her an idea of what had happened in her absence.  Her eyes landed on Harry.  By the time she'd walked over to him, he'd already stood.  "I saw her being carried, they said she'd been injured.  Are you alright, Potter?"

"Fine.  We're all fine, when it comes to surviving I guess."  He answered, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.  When he looked into his professor's eyes, they only asked one question.  Though it was a question with an answer he'd lived through, he couldn't speak the words.  He knew it all.  He knew what happened during the battle, he lived it; yet thinking back on it, there was nothing but the haunting images of Hermione laying limp on the floor drenched in her own blood.  The slight twinge of her eye, the way she looked when she fell, and her echoing scream cut like a knife inside him.  Now he understood Ron, for he too was starting to feel his heart race.  The reality of it all it him, and he suddenly felt as though he couldn't breathe.  McGonagall sensed this sudden change, but the weight of her hand on his shoulder only intensified the stress.  "I need to sit down."

After excusing himself, he didn't pay much mind to any of the words spoken by the professor while she addressed someone else.  All he wanted was to get away from the crowd; he wanted to deal with this alone.  Yet, despite his drive and desire to leave, he was halted by a red print on the floor.  It was a shoe print, plain and simple, but the ink used gave so much more.  His mind told him to move but his body would not comply.  His head suddenly felt absent from his body.  Queasy, he placed his hand just above his belt.  The space and air around him no longer existed.

"Harry, we should get you to the infirmary.  It looks as though you've taken a beating."  Lupin suggested, approaching him.

"I'm going to pass out."  He warned, moving nothing but his lips.

Lupin sighed and grasped his shoulder, then looked down to peer into his eyes.  "You're not going to pass out-"

"I'm going to pass out."  He repeated.  Before he'd finished his sentence, he could already feel himself falling.  The last thing he felt was weightlessness as his former teacher caught him mid-fall.

As the werewolf hoisted the boy up so he was leaning against him, a figure caught him by surprise.  Ron stood before him with his face red, eyes puffy, and a look of defeat molded on his features.  There were many sides to Ron Weasley, but this was not one he'd seen before.  

"I can take him to Madam Pomfrey."  He offered, sniffling and wiping his nose on his shirt.  Lupin eyed him suspiciously.

"Can you handle it?"

"Yeah," He took a deep breath in and straightened his back slightly.  "I can."

Working together, they managed to place Harry's arm securely around the much taller boy's shoulders.  After taking a few steps however, Ron knew it wasn't going to work.  So, after swearing to himself a few times, he picked Harry up and slung his limp friend over his shoulder so he could continue to descend down the staircase.

McGonagall made her way to the last student available.  The blond stood with his wand in his hands. He looked into the distance deep in thought, but without the usual expression that accompanied deep thinkers.  His nostrils were flared, his mouth pursed and turned down, eyebrows furrowed but his eyes stood wide.  He seemed to be looking at the ghost of death.  He was afraid.

"I need to do a report on this."  She said, breaking him of his fearful thoughts.  He turned and looked at her. "Can you tell me the truth about what happened up here?"

His expression lessened, but the imprint of fear was left.  "Yes."  He answered simply.  "But one question.  Where's Professor Dumbledore?"

Minerva looked about the room in search of her co-worker and friend, but there was no trace of him.  He'd told her that he would be out with Harry for their 'secret teachings', but it never occurred to her that he was present at the time of the attack.  She was disappointed in herself for not making the connection.  Still, she turned to her student.  

"That is a very good question."

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	2. The Kids Aren't Alright

Students of all ages were out of their beds; they scattered across campus, looking for their friends, siblings, and teachers. Integrated students scrambled to enter other common rooms and the halls in which they were hidden; those who faced denial climbed up the disheveled staircase to absorb the wreckage of tower above. However, the most familiar faces flooded the infirmary. Though they tried their best at the locations they were, the teachers could not control the young witches and wizards from going as they pleased. McGonagall could be heard down the entirety of hall lining the infirmary, but not the entire castle. Hogwarts was bustling. Children ran into the arms of parents who demanded they take them home. There wasn't anything anyone could do. Students of all houses disappeared left and right with nothing more than a word. Former Gryffindor, Dean Thomas, had been one of these students. However, he left in his own. Before his departure, he pulled his ex-girlfriend-whom he was only addressing as a close friend-aside to inform her of his decision. They hugged goodbye, and when they did she held him tightly. Though she was more concerned with those who'd fought, she didn't want to pass up the chance for a real goodbye, as she understood it could very well have been the last.

She ran down the stairs, her hand on the railing in case her speed made an attempt to slow her down. She ignored several acquaintances on her way down, positive they were only asking for 'the real story'. She didn't care about what timeline of the event, she first wanted to know everyone was okay. She rushed against the swarm as she leapt down to the third floor landing. She differed from the others rushing to the room of requirements in turning left. A flash of blonde hair caught her eye as she rushed towards Madam Pomfrey's area of the castle. The door already open, she bursted through the entryway with her hands clinging to the frame to steady herself. Seeing a ginger glimmer from sunlight, Ginny could tell her parents had beaten her. They were talking with McGonagall, beside them was Neville. Her mother had her fingertips to her lips and the comforting arm of her husband around her.

Upon seeing his professor's gaze suddenly shift behind them, Neville turned. After registering just who had captured McGonagall's attention, he sprinted over to the girl slowly passing through the doorframe.

"Thank God you're here. We just sent for you." He told her. Silent, she looked from him to her parents who were now rushing to her presence. Molly accidentally shoved the teenage boy aside in her efforts to engulf her only daughter in a bone crushing embrace. Arthur gave Neville an apologetic look before stepping forward to hug his daughter as well.

"What happened? Is everyone alright?" Ginny asked much quieter than she expected. Her mother's hand slid a little down her arm as she looked her in the eye. She sported a smile that was similar to the fake one she wore when her and her father were fighting.

"Bill will have some scars, but he will heal. Ron is alright, and Harry passed out but not from anything physical." She answered, looking down at her daughter's sleeve and beginning to awkwardly pick fuzz from it.

"What did he pass out from then?" The red headed girl shifted every way possible to try and gaze around her mother at the bustling scene behind her. She was able to make out three figures in beds, and Harry's messy hair stemming from one of them. No matter what way she moved, her mother would look away from her. "What about Hermione? Who else was there?"

At that moment, he father stepped between the two and tried to redirect his daughter back towards the entrance. "Well, Ginny, Hermione-"

"What?" She cut his calm voice off, stopping sharply. Arthur had to re-track his steps to be even with her again. "What's happened to her?"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by another one of his children. "It's a spell that causes several deep lacerations to whatever it touches." They turned, and Ron was standing a little ways to the side of them. He looked smaller than usual. He stood with his legs held tightly together, and his arms pressed to his sides. His voice was dull, and so were his eyes. His brows moved slightly with the words he spoke, but his eyelids remained steadily closed halfway. She took a deep breath in reaction to the shock-like pain that radiated from her middle when she noticed the state of his clothes; stiff and smelling of iron. She turned away for a moment, not wanting to think about how much blood her friend had to loose to make a near full body stain. "It's known as Sectumsempra. Harry used it a few months ago. Turns out it's one Snape created while at Hogwarts. Wasn't Snape though that did it, Bellatrix," He paused, his eyes veering off into the space between them. It was like talking to a man who hadn't slept for several days and was then fired from his job, only to find out his wife and children left him. Ron wiped his mouth even though nothing was there. "She's fine for now but she's going to need more work, work far beyond this place. They don't feel comfortable moving her so medi-witches are coming from St. Mungo's to do whatever they need to do here. She'll rest here too. Knowing Hermione she'll want to finish her exams." It seemed as though he were trying to joke, but his tone did not suggest it. Ginny looked at him for a brief moment before flinging her arms around his neck. Her small figure practically disappeared in his long arms. It was comforting to be held by someone, and Ron needed strength right now, even if it was in the form of arms around him. Her throat ached and tears welled in her eyes, but she would not cry.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." She whispered to him.

"Don't be. I'm glad you weren't" He responded. She loosened her grip and they broke apart. Their father had left some time prior, and Ginny had turned to make her way to Bill's bedside when Ron gripped her elbow. She looked at him and he just gaped at her. As she rose her eyebrows in question, he dropped her arm. "Nevermind."

Approaching the second hospital bed, she witnessed cutting body language and heard harsh whispers. It was hard to decipher what Fleur was saying through her accent, but after paying close attention she was able to get the idea.

"You think I only love him because of his looks?" The blonde spat, looking over her sleeping fiancee and at her future mother-in-law. "I knew the vows when I said yes, 'for better or for worse', I said yes because I will love him no matter what. He's going to have scars? Fine. That shows that my husband is brave, and it makes him no less handsome to me. Besides, even if it did, I'm beautiful enough for both of us. If you'll excuse me-"

Ginny never cared much for Fleur, but to her surprise she was starting to change her mind. She had to admit that the women in the family had been quite bitter towards her, and she finally had the nerve to stand up for herself. Ginny grinned as the woman strode passed her; her respect for her brother's wife-to-be was growing.

Molly, red in the face and obviously flustered, crossed her arms so tightly her hands turned white. She whispered something to her husband, and he responded with her name in a warning tone. She shook it off and began looking at the posters on the far wall.  Ginny looked down at Bill, she could only see one eye for the rest of his face was bandaged. Fred and George lingered on the other side of the bed.

"Looks like we're the most attractive ones now." Fred commented. Molly whipped her head around so fast Ginny's hair flew into her face. The twin took in an uneasy breath. "Too soon?" Molly made a disgruntled noise and went off to talk to one of the professors. "Just trying to lighten the mood. Was it really that bad to say?"

Ginny looked up, unaware for a moment he was talking to her. "No, you're just wrong." She said in the most serious of voices, keeping her face still. "It's obviously me."

"Out of the boys in the family."

"Charlie then."

"He's in Albania, he's irrelevant."

"Alright, keep making excuses." She chuckled under her breath.

She was getting nothing but bits and pieces of the story, and not only was she having a hard time trying to place them correctly according to time, but some of the information was conflicting. It probably had to do with everyone telling her a different part of what they'd heard from someone else. Most of the people who were present had left, or were sleeping. All of them except for Ron and Fleur. But Fleur was somewhere roaming about the castle and Ron wasn't in the mood to talk.

People trickled out as day turned to evening until it was just Ginny and Ron remaining. Without hearing or seeing anything, Ginny figured the adults went to talk about the day's happenings elsewhere. The two siblings didn't speak. Ron simply sat slouched in a chair with his eyes either glued to the wall or peacefully shut. There were a few times where she would glance at him and wonder if she should make conversation, but decided every time that it was best to leave an injured animal alone.

A few medi-witches appeared through green flames in the fireplace and sped off behind the curtain that encircled the third bed. There was much chatter going on about the girl lying there, but it was muffled and untranslatable. Ginny's face fell as she sat on the edge of her boyfriend's bed. She swallowed and picked at her nails nervously. In her peripheral vision, she could see a head of black hair moving and immediately got off the mattress. She leaned over him as he rubbed his temples with his hands and squinted. He looked up at her and smiled slightly.

"You're here." Harry acknowledged. Seeing her stand, he patted the open area of his bed and she resumed her seat.

"And you're awake, finally." She responded, letting out a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling."

"I'm alright, got a little beat up though. I have a headache but it's nothing major." She took his hand in hers as he spoke. His hands were ice; it was most likely due to them being out of the covers. She smiled at him and drew circles on the back of his hand with her opposite finger. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, thanks." She answered with a bit of a laugh, she shouldn't be the one he was worried about. "Why are they keeping you overnight? I thought you passed out from stress?"

He huffed. "I did. But I got punched in the face a couple times, as you can probably tell, and then I passed out; they're just making sure I don't have any kind of head injury."

"But you said it yourself, it was from stress." Ginny questioned further.

"I know that, Lupin knows that, and now you know that, but they don't." He motioned to the room where Madam Pomfrey and her ladies slept. "As much as I'd like to go back with you, I can't. It's just a precaution."

A moment of silence passed between them as they stared at each other. Harry leant his head back on the metal headboard and gave her a quick smile, squeezing her hand. She pulled her other hand over the one she held to completely enclose it within her grasp. She looked at their hands and how they were bound to each other, and then she looked back up to meet his eyes.

"What happened, Harry?"

More silence, but Harry wasn't going to leave her without an answer. "I thought they would have told you by now."

"They did, but it was all from people who weren't really there. It was like a game of telephone, the events were scrambled and the details conflicting." She saw Harry's eyes flicker over to where Ron was sitting. "He didn't want to talk about it, and I don't blame him."

"Is he sleeping?" Harry asked. Ginny turned around and noticed that her brother's eyes were shut, and his body was even more slumped than the last time, with his arms folded neatly over his chest and his head leaning to the side.

"Not sure." She developed a sudden thirst and looked to Harry's side table to sip from his glass of water. In doing to, she noticed a pair of socks which had gone unused. She picked them up. turned them over in her hand, and gave Harry her signature smile before chuckling them to Ron's position. She wasn't sure what exactly she was aiming at, but she hit the vase on the side table behind him, causing it to fall and shatter on the ground. She flinched at the noise, but snorted in amusement also.

"Ginny!" Harry whispered, trying to sound harsh through his own laughter. They watched Ron roll his head to the other side and shift lazily, but no real sound came from him.

"I guess that answers your question." She told him, whipping back around to face him. His lips found her cheek as she did so. He scooted forward and wrapped his arms around her, instinctively she leant into him.

"In the Astronomy Tower, the floor below the top one, my cloak lies in the left hand corner of the room as soon as you walk in. Go get it before curfew ends, and come back tonight. I'll tell you everything, I just don't want the risk of anyone else hearing." He whispered through her hair. She nodded in acknowledgement before placing a kiss on on the bruised portion of his head.

"Everyone out!" One of the medi-witches called from behind the curtain. A dark haired, middle aged witch slid the curtain over to examine the students left behind. "Everyone out!" She shouted again. "We'll be performing a few operations and we don't want any unnecessary witnesses. Get out, both of you."

The shouting caused Ron to wake from his slumber. He bobbed his head a few times and wiped his eyes before processing what was being asked of him. After a final goodbye to Harry, Ginny lifted Ron by the arm to get him moving. He staggered, drunk with exhaustion, to and out the door. Harry wished everything in the world to go with them, because in the state of everything, he did not want to hear any of the sounds that would soon be coming from behind that curtain.

Everyone rose from their seats and swarmed the two as they entered the common room. Ron's name was being shouted from every direction at different pitches, all followed by the same series of questions he'd already been asked. A girl screamed, Ginny assumed it was at seeing the blood on his clothes as she couldn't foresee any other reason. She only stepped into the room to make sure Ron got in okay. From the doorway, she could see Seamus standing directly in front of him and pressing him for information. She worried slightly about how Ron would handle the sudden stop, but he simply pushed through, saying "Excuse me" several time over. It was evident he didn't want to talk, regardless, some of the boys even went as far as to follow him up the staircase and to the dormitory. Ginny thought about where that might lead. They had to be careful, Weasleys tend to get nasty when they've had enough.

Most of them had turned their attention with Ron as he walked, so not many eyes were on Ginny. Neville walked over to her and greeted her warmly.

"Hey, how's Harry doing? Has he woken up yet?" He asked politely.

"Just now, yeah." She confirmed. The blond nodded his head in relief.

"Okay, good. Hermione is the same I'm assuming?"

"The medi-witches from St. Mungo's are here, that's why I had to leave; they're working on her."

"Do you think she'll be okay?" He ducked his head and asked lowly, as if to prevent others from hearing.

"She's a fighter, I think she'll be fine. But why are we whispering?" She asked.

"No one knows about her. McGonagall told them everyone came out of it with minor injuries at most."

Ginny looked at him questioningly. "How the hell is she going to explain that then?" She motioned to the path Ron had just taken. Neville shrugged. In a course, McGonagall was right, the less people who knew the better. It would be hard enough for the medi-witches to focus in an unfamiliar setting, let alone with dozens of students gathered outside the door only for the sole purpose of possibly seeing an injury.

"No idea-" A sudden crash drew everyone's attention to the banister. Seamus stumbled out the boy's dormitory holding his face with one hand, and flailing for balance with the other. A younger student who had followed him inside stood beside him, trying to get him stable once more. Another sound rang through Gryffindor tower and everyone knew the dormitory door had been slammed shut.

"Ron cursed him?" Neville suggested.

"No he-" Ginny began, but the victim finished her statement.

"-bastard punched me in the face!" The Irishman exclaimed, blood trickling from his nostril to his lip.

"Kinda deserved it, didn't you Seamus?" She yelled his way, a protective anger growing in her stomach. "Haven't you parents ever told you to let sleeping dogs lie?"

"Shut it!" He yelled back.

"Already have, maybe you wouldn't have a screwed up face if you'd learn to do the same." The boy stomped off at her rebuttal. She turned to Neville again, who was smiling at her fondly. "I knew that would happen."

"So when do you think it'll be okay for us to visit Hermione?" He asked, still smiling through his teeth.

"I don't know, probably tomorrow. She might not be awake yet though."

"That's alright. Luna and I wanted to go check on her, and we were wondering if you wanted to come too?" He offered, slowly forgetting about the event that had transpired and losing his grin.

"Of course, yeah." Ginny felt a bit of warmth in her heart from the two's invitation. "I was already going to be there."

"Brilliant," He patted her on the shoulder and began to walk back to the armchair in which he was seated before. "We'll see you tomorrow then."

As soon as he turned, she did too. She escaped out the portrait door and began to make her way to Astronomy Tower. The top portion had been blocked off, and she could hear a few of the teachers up there, most likely cleaning everything. She saw a little corner of fabric she recognized to be the underside of the cloak and snatched it. Not knowing what to do with it once she had it, she flung it over her head and proceeded down the corridors. She removed it before entering the common room again, and walked with it inside out as though it didn't differ from any other cloak. She hid it in her pillowcase, then sat in her bed to read.

After several hours of pretending to sleep, she tip-toed from her bed and exited the dormitories with the cloak slung over her shoulder. Reaching the stairs, she flung it over her head and everything in sight became the familiar blurriness it had been when her and Harry snuck out to a midnight picnic near the Great Lake. She'd much rather be doing that instead.  _At least he's okay._  She thought, the slight patter of her feet echoed down the halls. However, with all the staff members she came across, they mistook the sound for their own. She passed a handful of professors just getting to the third floor. It was safe to assume they would be paying close attention to the figures looming around campus tonight. As soon as Professor Trelawney made the decision to go up to the fourth floor, Ginny turned onto the third. Aside from the torches on the wall, the castle was pitch black. Luckily, as she quietly slipped through the infirmary's door, she could tell that there was quite a bit of natural moonlight illuminating Harry's area of the room. At the creak of the door, Harry sat up. She removed the cloak and set it on his bedside table before perching herself on the edge of his bed, just as she did before. She greeted him with a peck on the forehead and a pat on the leg.

"Any news?" He asked.

"No, well," She stifled a laugh. "Not unless you count Ron punching Seamus in the nose 'news'."

Harry's mouth dropped open like a door on a broken hinge. "What'd he do that for?"

"Seamus kept pestering him. It was obvious Ron didn't want to talk about it, but he kept pushing. I didn't see the hit per say, but I saw the aftermath. It was pretty bad. Any news here?" She nodded at Hermione's bunk, and noticed the empty one between them.

"Bill went back with the St Mungo's witches, said they were going to work on minimizing the scarring." He informed, his eyes lingering on the deserted bed. "Hermione was awful. She wasn't awake during any of it, thank God. It was just, I heard noises and I couldn't stop myself from thinking about what exactly the worst possible thing they could have been doing was and-yeah, I didn't get any sleep."

"Neither did I." She agreed, placing her hand on the cloak. "I felt like someone was going to steal this so I pretty much sat on it the whole night."

"Thank you, for getting it."

"It's no problem."

The two then sat there, gazing at eachother as they often did. It became a favorite pastime of theirs; they could speak without saying a word at all. Even in the darkness, she could still see the fluorescence of his eyes, and the way they looked at her. Even after many months, his stare caused her stomach to erupt of butterflies. She wanted to be looked at like that for the rest of her life.

"So, should we start from the beginning?"

With every word he said she found it more difficult to believe him; it wasn't like anything she'd ever expected to hear. The beginning of every sentence was the beginning of a twist she couldn't have imagined. On one occasion she'd asked if he was toying with her and he responded with another question, " _Do you really think I could make this up?"_. So he continued. As bizarre as it was, it did make sense. Malfoy's odd behavior hadn't gone unnoticed by her. She even could have sworn that he attempted to talk to her after potions on a few occasions, even if he never plucked up the courage to do so. Harry followed up the the exact moment she found him in the hospital wing.

"So, Dumbledore just left?" She inquired. "He disapperated or something? I thought you couldn't do that on Hogwarts' grounds?"

"I reckon so, it doesn't matter when you're the Headmaster."

"That doesn't sound like Dumbledore though, to run during a fight; he's much more noble than that."

"I know," he huffed, turning his head to look at the wall deep in thought, "There's got to be some reason why, I'm sure of it. He'll tell me when he get's back."

"He's not back yet?" She whispered harshly.

"Not that I know of, no."

And Ginny's heart began to break. Harry had such faith in Dumbledore, such trust. Even if he hadn't put it into the exact words, Dumbledore had become somewhat of a mentor to him. He looked up to him, like a young boy would a superhero. She couldn't help the thought from crossing her mind, as unlikely as it was: what if Dumbledore did run? Would Harry be crushed, or would he battle denial? Maybe even both consecutively. She sighed, and hoped she was just being paranoid.

She nearly threw herself off the opposing side of the bed to hide when she heard the door creak, but she recognized the figure that slipped in.

"Wait," Ron started. "Ginny?"

"How did you get in here?" She responded, standing. "There are teachers everywhere."

"Well, how did you get in?" He repeated. Harry then reached across the table and threw the invisibility cloak at his best friend, who caught it clumsily. "Nice to see you're awake and well, Harry, especially after I carried your arse in here."

"No seriously," For whatever reason, a smile crept to her lips. "How did you make it passed the teachers?"

Ron sighed and shedded his jacket. While he draped it over a chair he'd grabbed, he muttered something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry," Harry teased, cupping a hand to his ear. "What was that?"

"I set a bush of fire." He mumbled, but a little clearer than the last.

"You lit a bush on fire?" She repeated, for clarification purposes. Her brother pulled the chair up to the two of them and nodded. "Why?"

"To create a diversion. When they were all busy with the fire I just scampered on over here." It seemed as though he was in higher spirits than when she saw him last and she was happy about that, but as it turned out, her and Harry had separate opinions on Ron's tactics.

"That's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed.

"Why would you light a bush of fire? Now they're going to have to put it out and plant another one." She argued, but only for the sake of arguing.

"Well, they kind of have to replace the whole top half of the Astronomy Tower. I didn't think adding an extra bush was going to be an issue." For the first time in a while, the three of them burst into genuine laughter. Exhausted and all sporting bags under their eyes, Ginny was amazed at just how much the body and soul could handle, and still find joy in it all. Ron's was the first to die out as his eyes caught Hermione's bed. Ginny watched him watch her, just the steady rise and fall of her chest was enough to make his eyes stay. Though lingering and relieved, as wide as they were they also gave the impression of worry. The longer she looked, the more she picked up on an underlying sadness; guilt. She had no clue as to why he would feel that way though. From what Harry told her, Bellatrix went gunning straight for her for being a muggleborn.

"So, Ron," Harry began with caution in his voice. Snapped out of his misery, Ron looked swiftly at him and raised his eyebrows. "I told Ginny what happened, including the story about what happened to Hermione. You know, how she screamed 'mudblood' at her like it was the curse itself."

The ginger's brows furrowed, but then went back to normal after a moment. "Oh, yeah. It was horrible. Really bad. I was right there with her, and I caught her when she fell-"

"Harry said she fell on you?" Ginny interrupted, looking from one boy to the next. They eyed each other suspiciously before Ron spoke.

"Well, it probably looked like falling. It's not like I was sure what was going on in the moment."

There was something they were keeping from her, the two she knew so well never acted like this. She exhaled loudly; her opinion was, if there was something they didn't want to share with her then they should just tell her so. However, she kept that opinion to herself, and allowed the conversation to roll on. Harry filled Ron in on what he'd heard during Hermione's operation. It wasn't much, but at least he'd gotten the sense that she was going to be okay. This made Ron breathe a little easier, but the two others still noticed his gaze wander off in Hermione's direction. To this, the couple would glance at each other moving nothing but their eyes as they hid a smile. The boy in question never noticed.

With the events of the day wearing on her, Ginny started to feel the weight of her drooping eyelids and excused herself back to the dormitories. She left the cloak in Ron's possession, and joked that maybe she too would light a plant on fire. As she walked out the doorway, Harry and Ron were alone.

Harry in his bed, and Ron shifting in his chair, the friends looked at each other in dubiety. The mutual gaze was only broken by the one in the chair as he looked at the ghost of his sister's presence in the doorway.

"You didn't tell her." He acknowledged. "About-"

"It's not my business to say." Harry jumped on his words. "I figured you wouldn't want anyone to know what actually happened."

"You're right. I don't."

"I know you well then." He concluded. A moment of silence fell through them. He watched Ron awkwardly pick at his nails, trying to dig for something that wasn't there. He just played with his hands in an attempt to look busy. "But why not?"

"I dunno, it just doesn't feel right." He looked about the room and sighed, eyes fixated upon the little flakes of dust falling in the moonlit stale air. "It's not my call. It was her action, not mine. She tells it if she wants, not anyone else."

Harry nodded in agreeance, and another silence followed. Ron found Hermione's limp self, laying beneath the covers again, but this time he was not alone. Harry looked at her too. He looked at her, then Ron, then her, and Ron again. "Ron, she saved your life."

"And look what she got for it."

The eyes of blue did not leave her, their only other action was reflecting the light that only made them seem deeper in color. It was an odd sight to see for Harry. If he had no prior knowledge of the one sitting beside his bed, he'd say he was blond, and though Ron was fair he'd say he was fairer than he was. Ginny on the other hand, the light had made her auburn hair seem brown, and gave her brown eyes a rich blackness he'd only seen before down at the Great Lake. If someone had asked him a week ago if he loved Ginny Weasley he would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now, he wasn't so sure. He could have sworn he loved her, he swore he did; he had all the symptoms of love. He wanted to be with her all the time, he constantly thought about her when she was gone, and the days seemed pointless if he didn't get to be with her, but the more and more he thought about it, he wondered if that all mattered if in the one time he should have been thinking about her, he wasn't. His palms began to sweat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron's head turn back and they were looking at each other again. They were looking at each other indeed, but their thoughts were elsewhere. Harry's were deep inside himself, digging as hard as he could to find the true meaning behind his confusion, and Ron's were left in the bed second to the right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I tried to incorporate a lot of things in this chapter but I just couldn't fit it. I'm very very sorry, but know that this fic will have many chapters and all questions you could have will be answered. Until next time!  
> -Sarah


	3. Awake

After careful consideration, the board decided that Hogwarts would remain open, as all students had end of the year exams and their grades could not be finalized without them.  Due to the school’s amended schedule, Hogwarts was to be let out in approximately three weeks.  However, Dumbledore gave the option for students to leave after they’d finished testing.  Being 6th years, Ron and Harry would be free of all responsibilities within the week, but there was an unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn't leave Hermione.  The teachers expected the days following the incident to run like any other day.  They expected the students to forget about the violence that had penetrated their walls, and continue their schooling as if they weren’t stressed enough already.  Well, these things weren’t necessarily expected, but they surely hoped for.  While walking down the corridors on the second day, Ron was lucky enough to hear Professor Binns discussing grading on a curve, due to the abundance of low scores he’d already received.  Hearing this, Ron got a boost of confidence heading into his Charms final.

He and Harry sat together as usual.  Ron dug in his bag for a quill, at the bottom of it he found two.  A very grateful Harry took the spare as he’d forgotten to pick his.  Unlike the time before most tests, the students were silent.  Instead of two houses, all four were mixed, causing an unfamiliar air to the room.  For the first time, Ron got a good look at everyone who was in his year.  There weren’t that many, the group was average at somewhere around 30 students.  There were quite the number of Slytherins; nine of them to be exact, almost a third of his graduating class.  He shrugged off the useless fact and began tapping on the table.  He made up a rhythm of beats using the sound of his nails on wood.  Letting his imagination run wild, Ron looked through the top windows and into the trees.  He wasn’t aware of the annoyance radiating from his table partner until a hand landed on his, slapping it down.  He jumped a little at the sudden contact and turned to see Harry’s hand on his and Harry’s eyes staring him down.  Ron pulled his hand away and placed it in his lap.  Sorry he mouthed, but the other just rolled his eyes.

“Welcome all to your final Charms exam.”  McGonagall stood at a podium, addressing the class.  “The bad news is, this test is worth quite a deal of your grade.  The good news is, it’s the last time you have to be in this classroom this year.”

“Oh, praise heavens!”  One of the Slytherins shouted, and the class chuckled as a whole.  Even the commonly stone-faced teacher found it amusing.

“Don’t we all?”  She commented quietly to herself.  “Your test has 200 questions; some of them are multiple choice and some are not.  Some are circumstantial questions that require you to write your response in a given situation.  This will not only test your understanding of what we have learned inside the classroom, but your preparedness for the real world and your understanding of magical mechanics.  You will have three hours to complete this test.  Wands must be put away, and all other materials aside from a quill and the parchment I give you will be cleared off the testing area.  There will be no talking, passing notes, or communication of any kind.  If I catch you cheating, or violating any of the other rules, you will be given an automatic ‘T’.  Are we clear?”  The students gave a nod, and with a wave of her wand test booklets appeared in front of them.  “You may now start your test.”

Ron fell behind on the first couple of questions; he was still on page one while Harry was halfway down page three.  He began mentally cursing at himself, then the test. He even read the test questions to himself in his own vulgar manner.  Wait, Ron thought, hold on.  He ran the question over and over in his head, wording it a different way every time.  He did know this, he was just frightened by the format of the questions.  In taking the basic root of the question and rewording it differently in his mind, he was able to quickly bypass Harry halfway through. He pictured himself doing them to remember the exact hand motion certain spells required.  He began placing himself at the top of Astronomy tower, then asked himself what charms he could possibly use to do the action McGonagall was asking of him.  He had a sudden picture in his mind of a Death Eater standing in front of him, just below a chandelier. How would he make that light fixture fall? _Descendo_. He thought, quickly circling answer D.

The first person done was a Slytherin girl who popped out of her seat, handed her test in, then sat back down and began reading a book titled “Most Influential People of the Ministry”.  After two hours students began falling asleep in their seats.  Neville was one of them.  When no one was looking, Ron used his foot to kick the sleeping Gryffindor in the shin.  He woke with a jolt and resumed his test as though he had not been out cold but a second ago.

The end of the test consisted of the circumstantial questions McGonagall spoke of.  He usually hated short answer questions, but he had no problem writing a little extra for these.  Feeling good, but also feeling like he faked his way through half of it, Ron was the eleventh person to turn in the booklet.  Harry followed in being the seventeenth person.  The dark haired boy rested his head  on his desk while the ginger leaned back, stretching his neck.  Sitting there with nothing to do got old real fast.  

McGonagall remained in her desk chair, the sound of her flipping through papers was a tell-tale sign that she was already grading them. Only the slight click of the door cause the professor to look up.  She locked eyes with Colin Creevy, who apologized silently before tip-toeing deeper into her classroom.  She decided to ignore him.  It wasn’t till a short time later, after she heard a chair being slid back, that she looked up again.  A tall, ginger boy was now on his feet and gathering things in his bag.  She looked at him in shock.

“Mr. Weasley, what do you think you’re doing?”  She asked, dumbfounded that he would do such a thing.  Ron turned towards her with the most innocent look on his face.

“Oh, sorry; I was going to go up and tell you.  But Hermione’s awake, and I was going to go see her.”  He explained as though it were ‘just that simple’.  She set her quill down on her desk, then adjusted her glasses.

“Sit down, the test isn’t finished.”

“But I’m done.”  Ron stated, more like a question than anything.  “And she’s been in a coma for three days-”

 

Now very irritated, and feeling disrespected in front of her class, the woman raised her voice.  “You can see her after the break, now sit down!”

By that point, all of the students rested their quill to watch the scene.  Harry looked dead at the desk and pretended to draw on a piece of parchment he didn’t have.  Ron could tell by his friend’s wide eyes, and the way his bottom lip disappeared under his teeth, that he didn’t think Ron would win the fight.  Gazing up at Ron, Harry could tell that his friend was in no mood to back down.  It came across his mind that he might have not one, but two friends recovering from serious injuries within the hour.  He hid his face when Ron pivoted on his heel and began to walk in the direction of the door.  McGonagall stood up.

“Ronald Weasley, if you walk out that door, you are getting a zero one your grade for this class!”  She threatened.  Ron stopped, knowing full well she’d do it too.  “The only reasonable excuse you could possibly have that would allow me to dismiss you from this class, would be running blood or the risk of death.”  He turned to look at her for a moment.  Suddenly, he moved to face the wall and placed his hands to steady himself before plunging into it.  Harry jumped at hearing the noise it made.  The ginger doubled back, holding his nose.  He removed the hand to reveal a steady stream of blood running down his chin.  Some of it had already coated his fingers, so he flicked the droplets off to the side.

McGonagall’s rage suddenly disappeared and was replaced with several emotions that did not correlate what-so-ever.  She was astonished, she was in denial of what just transpired, she was concerned, but oddly (and most of all) she felt proud.  As frustrated as it made her, he had found a way to use her words in his favor.  It was clever, and if she were a student instead of a teacher, she would congratulate him on it.

“This is bleeding pretty bad.”  Ron said, spitting tainted saliva to the side of him.  “I think I need to go to the hospital wing.  I can’t see with my hand in front of my face, Harry, why don’t you come with me to make sure I don't run into anything?”

Harry shuffled his papers awkwardly before looking up at his teacher for approval.  She sighed and waved her hand, rolling her eyes as she sat down.  She was too embarrassed about being outwitted by a student to look up and watch them leave.

“Are you mad?”  Harry yelled in his ear, beating every area of him he could reach.  Ron held up his spare arm in defence even if his hits weren’t excruciatingly hard ones.  “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I needed to get some nerve!”  Ron answered, slightly irritated with his friend’s response.  “Maybe it’s time you got some.”

“I fought Voldemort, but never in my life would I ever even attempt to pull that!”  Harry let out an exasperated sigh, and nearly began running to keep up with his friend's long-legged strides.  “You’re damn mental.”

Ron didn't care about Harry's opinion; he just wanted to get to the infirmary.  

The blood flow decreased significantly as they made their way across the castle.  By the time the entered the hospital wing, Ron wasn't even sure if it was still bleeding.  Harry stopped him just outside the door to check his suspicions.  He pulled Ron's hands away from his face, and when the ginger tried to put them up again, he slapped them away.  The trickle was slow, but continuous none the less.  Harry wondered if Seamus' face looked similar after he was hit.

"It's still going, but you're fine.  I don't think you broke anything."  Harry voiced.

"Even if I did, my nose was crooked anyway from when Charlie chucked a quaffed at my face when I was 10."  Ron tried to wipe the mess off his lip with his sleeve, but he only succeeded in smearing it and staining his shirt.  He continued walking.

"Really?"  Harry squinted. "I never heard that story.  I just thought that was your face."

"Ha ha," Ron smirked sarcastically, "Very funny."

Harry chuckled a bit as they entered the door of Madam Pomfrey's station.  Once she saw them she made an exasperated gasp and halted her bed-making to assist them.  Reluctantly, Ron went with her to the other side of the room.  Harry smiled while watching him go, and then he turned to Hermione.  She hadn't heard someone come in, for it seemed she was too immersed in the book she was reading.  Laying on her back with the text above her, she turned the page.  He couldn't help but think how that was probably the most uncomfortable position to read, but stopped himself once he realized she really had no other choice.  She turned her head too see origin of movement when he began his walk towards her.

“Harry?”  She questioned, a smile coming to her lips.  She marked her page and rest the book on her stomach.  A sharp pain rushed through her and she remembered how and why that movement wasn’t the best idea.  Wincing, she reached to place it on the table beside her.  “You’re okay!  How are you here, I thought it was class time still?”

“That’s because it is.”  He grinned back at her, standing a little ways away from her with his bag still slung over his shoulder.

“Well then, how did you get out?” She asked, genuinely curious as to know how they managed to let any of the teachers let them roam the halls not only during finals, but so shortly after the battle.  Hearing footsteps behind Harry, Hermione moved her head slightly to try and get a glimpse of who was coming from behind him.  She had her suspicions, but when they were confirmed by a short glimpse of ginger hair.  An uncomfortable and warm feeling causing her to take a large breath radiated from her middle, having nothing to do with her injury.

“Because daft-nuts here,”  He started to explain, his voice raising a considerable amount for no reason apparent to Hermione, when Ron took his place next to him and interjected, tissue at his nose and all.

“-tripped and fell into McGonagall’s desk while handing in my test.  Horrible bloody sight, really embarrassing--don’t talk about it with anyone, please.”  Ron finished, Harry looked at him oddly and pointed at him for a second before lowering his hand.  Ron removed the stained tissue for a moment to place it again at a fresh angle; his face did look astonishingly better.  Harry assumed Madam Pomphrey used a cleaning spell on him, a spell either of them could have done easily if Ron hadn’t been so adamant about going to the hospital wing.  “How are you, Hermione?”

“Fine,”  she answered, all too quickly.  She looked up at him with eyes flooded in confusion and concern, eyes that were a little wider than usual.  “I’m getting medication for the pain.  Now I just have to rest until it heals completely.”

“I’d take that as good news.”  He said with optimism.  “How long did they say until you’re back to normal?”

“Normal?  Goodness, I don’t know.  They said I should be able to walk in a few weeks though, probably by the time we get out of school.”  She explained, rolling her neck and resting her gaze on the ceiling.  “I want to test the waters and see what I can do, but I think I’m going to play it safe and wait.  I’ll sit up though, when it doesn’t hurt so bad; I need to take my exams anyway.”

“It was Charms today, D.A.D.A yesterday.  You’ll pass without trying, but I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”  He laughed a little and so did she.  He pulled the tissue away and sniffled, then turned to throw it in the trash.  Harry watched the two of them, suddenly feeling a little lonely.

Ron took a seat on the bed behind him, and clapped his hands together, sighing.  “So, what’s the last thing you remember?”

That question evoked a very long discussion for the three of them.  Harry forgot that they had not seen the first half of the battle like he had, and that they had no idea how it got started in the first place.  He explained his mission with Dumbledore, and about the locket.  Upon hearing of this, Hermione demanded to know why she hadn’t seen the headmaster at the top of the tower; Harry had no answer to give her as he still hadn’t heard from him.  Both his friends looked sceptical in their own ways when he assured them of his faith in Dumbledore; this made his heart fall a little in his chest.  Ron continued to question Malfoy’s motives despite the amount of times Harry explained to him what happened.  He understood that Ron was in the right to be cautious, but Harry was getting slightly irritated because he seemed to be rejecting facts out of mere hatred.  He had to correct him several times on the events that happened as Ron had developed a habit of fabricating them in his favor to make Malfoy look less trustworthy.  The ginger looked at Hermione in disbelief.

“Do you honestly trust Malfoy, with everything he’s done to us?”

Hermione sighed, playing with her fingers and refusing to look at either of them.  “I don’t know Ron, when you look at it logically-”

“But what does your gut tell you?”  He interrupted.  He looked at her stomach and made a motion with his hand towards it.  “Aside from, you know.”

“I’ll have you know that my ‘gut-feeling’ is often derived from what I find logical.  So if you hadn’t interrupted me, I would have already gotten out that I believe, if what Harry says is true, that we can trust him.”  Ron rolled his eyes and sat straighter in annoyance, Hermione tried to sit up.  Harry rushed forward to take her by the shoulders and prevent her from doing so.  Still, her voice rose several octaves.  “Think about it: there was no way he could have known Harry was there, or that the two of us would show up, or the Order for that matter.  He probably didn’t even think Snape was on his side.  There is a large possibility that he did what he did thinking he was the only one going to be fighting.”

“Then why would he do it?”  Ron questioned.  “He could have just been done with it and had a nice, cushiony life with You-Know-Who.  If it was a suicide mission, why would he take that chance?”

“It could have been just that.”  Hermione said quietly.  She rubbed her eyes and the boys studied her.  “He could have realized that being a Death Eater wasn’t as easy or fun as his dad made it out to be, and--after seeing no other way out--just decided it was easier to give up.”

“So, you think Malfoy tried to commit suicide?”  Ron asked speculatively, scrunching his nose.

“It’s not that far fetched.”  Harry commented, looking at Ron.  “I mean, we all saw how he looked this past year.  I would hear him crying in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and from what I’d seen; he looked dead already.”

“It’s just a theory.  We’ll never know unless we ask.”  Hermione said.

“If he tells us the truth, and that’s a big if.”  Ron pointed out, going back to his original position of leaning forward with his elbows supporting his weight on his knees.  “He could be faking for all we know, still actually with the Death Eaters, and the whole thing was just a ruse to get us to trust him.”

“Can you think realistically please?”  Though Ron had backed down, it was evident Hermione wasn’t going to anytime soon.  “Do you really think You-Know-Who would really set up his own Death Eaters to be attacked and killed to get one on the inside, and that person being Malfoy?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, I do.  He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.  Besides, what’s a few Death Eaters when you can have all the information you need?  And Malfoy?  It’s Because he’s believable.  Would you believe it if Lucius Malfoy came in here and said he’d switched sides?  How about Bellatrix?  Hell no!  Yet here we are, discussing whether or not we can trust Malfoy, and so far, Malfoy’s winning.  So, yes Hermione, I do think that.”

Harry nodded.  He himself believed he could trust his new supposed ally, but Ron made some very good points.  It would have been difficult on Voldemort’s part, the complexity of the plan, but not so much so that it was impossible.  He was red in the face, and for the first time he thanked God that he seemed to be invisible to them; Harry hated being present during their fights, not only did it sadden him to see them so angry with each other, but it was also unbelievably awkward.  He turned to Hermione.

“I am in no place to argue with you right now.”  And as soon as she’d said it Harry knew Ron had won.  Hermione was the brightest person he knew, but she still couldn’t match him in that moment, because somewhere, deep down, she knew he had the equal chance of being right as she did.

“I agree.”  He said, looking at her softly.  “But I’m not trying to argue with you.  I’m just trying-”

“Yes, you are!”  She interjected, her voice loud and piercing.  She opened her mouth to say something further but Ron cut her off, just as she did him.

“No, I’m not.  Don’t tell me what I’m doing or not doing, Hermione.”  His voice was loud, but not in a threatening way like her’s was.  She dropped her head back into the pillow.  “I never wanted an argument.  Ever.  I was just trying to understand where you were coming from when you started to arguing with me.”

“You rose your voice at me.”

“Yeah, but the only time I did that was just now so you could actually hear me over yourself.”  He explained, shrugging.  “You can’t expect me to just sit here and let you yell at me.”

“And I don’t.  My problem is that though I have expressed my opinion in all ways I know how, you don’t seem to see it as a valid one, and you’re trying to push your views down both of our throats.”  Hermione’s voice was lowered down to normal, and Harry and Ron both were very grateful for that.  Her voice had matured since first year.  Though it still had a hint of bossiness to it, it was a low and steady tone that was actually quite pleasant to listen to.  However, the angrier Hermione gets, the louder and higher her voice gets.  Often times it’s worse than nails on a chalkboard.

“Funny, cause that’s exactly how I feel.”  Ron said slowly.  He staggered in his next words as though he couldn’t quite put together his thoughts.  “It seemed as though you only believed what you believed, and disregarded any kind of idea that conflicted with the main idea of yours.  So, I kept trying to ‘push mine’ because you weren’t having even the possibility of it.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me is, after all that, you believe my theory is a theory, but not the main theory?  In your opinion, anyway.”

“Yes.”  He clarified.  “And I take it you feel the same way?”

“Yes.”

“So it was a big misunderstanding then?”

Hermione shrugged looking tired and defeated, which was very unlike Hermione.  “I guess so.”

“Alright then.”

Harry considered whether or not his desire for death to take him in his shoes was a real feeling, or simply because he wanted out of that room.  He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index fingers.  They’d always bickered in front of him, but it was never anything like what he just transpired.  The worst before this was when he walking in on them during the Yule Ball.  He then wondered why they had the desire to fight in the first place.  Hermione had taken a curse for him that left her half filled with another’s blood, and Ron risked his Charms grade and bashed his face on the damned wall not hours ago just to come and see her; even if she didn’t know that.  He wondered if their visit would have played out the way it did if Ron would have told her the truth about how they came to be there in the first place.

Death hadn’t come for him, but God himself in the form of Ginny, Luna, and Neville came to rescue him.  Luna was the first to her bedside and gave her an awkward hug that Hermione was not expecting.  She then turned to Harry and Ron and gave them individual waves before turning back to Hermione, and asking her questions about her health and he dreams while she was in she coma.  Neville waved and smiled at Hermione before turning to the other two boys on the bed.

“Dumbledore wants you Harry.”  He said, and Harry looked up at the sound of his headmaster’s name.  Neville then looked at Ron with a much more worried expression.  “And McGonagall wants you.”

“Shit.”  Ron swore, gripping his bag harshly then slinging it over his shoulder.

“I still can’t believe you did that.”  Neville added, and Ron was in the middle of shushing him when Ginny chimed in.

“Yeah, I know!  I heard about it from Pavati.”  She exclaimed, seeming more impressed than shocked.  “You basically just showed everyone that you have iron balls!”

“Shut up, both of you!”  He whispered to them harshly.  “Don’t talk about it.”

“Why not?” Ginny, completely oblivious, asked.  “It’ll probably still be talked about when our children go here.”  It was only when Ron nodded in Hermione’s direction that his sister’s sly grin faded.  “Oh.”

Neville just looked puzzled when Ron turned and left.  Harry waved goodbye to Hermione, then said Ron’s goodbye for him before turning and leaving as well.  Though they exited the room together, the boys split upon entering the hall, both turning in favor of their predetermined destinations.  Harry was excited, but he was also very nervous.  He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore would be proud or upset.  Though he couldn't think of any possible reason for him to be angry with him, the thought made him shudder.  Given Neville hadn't provided him with a new password to get past the gargoyle, he assumed it was the same as the last time he'd visited.  

"Lemon drops."  He said.  The statue bowed its head and began its spiral to reveal the staircase Harry had traveled up one too many times.  

It seemed desolate in the office; it was far too quiet.  It was dark too.  All the windows had curtains pulled over them, the same curtains that used to be so dusty from being tied back for centuries.  He walked over to the fabric and held it between his fingers; it was clean.  A slight creak came from behind him and he turned; the old man was sitting at his desk with his hand loosely covering his mouth.

"Fancy the curtains, Harry?"  He asked in his naturally soothing voice. "I quite like them myself.  Can't stop myself from gazing at them from time to time."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion at the seemingly irrelevant question, but made it seem as though the cause for the action was the darkness.  He patted the hanging pieces of fabric one more.  "I do, sir.  They're different than the others."

"Indeed they are."  Dumbledore's hand moved from his mouth to his beard.  He slightly stroked the hairs at his chin before resting his arm on the desk.  "I think change is needed every now and then; it keeps thing fresh and interesting.  It keeps things moving."

Harry sensed an underlying message pertaining to the issue at hand.  If there was one thing about Dumbledore, it was that he liked every message disguised.  He liked the trustee to have to figure out what he was saying, but Harry had no tolerance for the riddle’s being provided.  He rushed forward.  "Professor-"

Dumbledore rose his hand to halt him, and Harry did as he commanded, not only stopping in his tracks but his speech.  "I know what you're going to say, and if you'll allow me to please explain."

"Why did you leave the tower?"  Harry's lips disobeyed his mind, and voiced what everyone had in their minds.  He had to know, he had to find out; for Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, not just himself.  

"Voldemort sent them that night for me."  He said, causing Harry to squint.  It didn't make sense, not really.  He saw everything that had transpired at the top of the tower, but he just assumed they were on their way to capture him, and killing Dumbledore was just an opportunity they'd stumbled upon.  Not once had Voldemort been concerned with Dumbledore, he only wanted him.  In all the years he'd been back, his only move had been against Harry.  "I thought if I could get them away from the school if I left.  I left traceable evidence so they would be able to follow me, but they didn't."

"Why didn't you come back then?"  He pressed, becoming angry.  All the reactions and looks from his friends had gotten to him, even if he wasn't aware of it until now.  Their speculation, their doubt, he began to feel it too.  "You waited days to show up! No one knew where you were, the school has been being managed by Professor Spout this whole time."

"I was too weak."  The headmaster's voice did not rise with Harry's.  He merely looked at him with soft eyes, and hoped they would cool the fire burning in the boy.  Even more confusion broke out on the boy's angered face.

"What?"  He whispered.  Dumbledore's gaze fell to the hand in his lap before he raised it for every object in the room to see.  It was grey, dead-like.  The skin had become ashy and dry, his fingers thin and nails blue, even the tendons of his hand were distinguishable when he moved his fingers.  Harry swallowed and stepped forward to get a better look; he'd seen this before, and the most concerning part of it was that instead of it covering his hand, the diseased skin was halfway up his forearm.

"Severus' potions and handmade ointments have kept it at bay for some time, but there are some things you can't delay forever."  His elbows shook as he lifted himself from the chair.  Harry grabbed his arm in an attempt to aid him, but with the wave of a darkened hand, his help was dismissed.  Flowing robes behind him, looking no different than usual, Dumbledore strode around his office looking into old paintings.  Harry watched him, solid in his place at the desk, unravel a sweet and place it in his mouth.  "I'm dying, Harry."

It didn’t quite hit Harry as hard as he thought it would.  Somewhere, deep down, he knew this was coming; he knew it from the first moment he saw grey peeking out of his headmaster’s sleeve.  Still, Harry’s eyelids went heavy.  It felt for a second as though he’s lost balance, as his center of gravity was thrown off when his heart abandoned its post, and stepped into the dark depths of his middle.  “W-what?”

“Death is nothing to be afraid of.”  He assured, shrugging.  “It is only the next step in the great adventure of life.”

"I-but," Harry stammered.  His shoulders slumped, and despite suddenly feeling very tired, his eyes widened.  

"It's alright, I still have time.  I don't know how much, but I'm a firm believer one shouldn't know such things."  He was in the midst of opening another candy when he offered one to Harry.  Harry shook his head.  "I heard Miss Granger was gravely injured in the battle?  I'm sorry to hear that; I know you two are close."

"Yes, and thank you.  No disrespect Professor, but can we please get back to you saying that you're dying?"  He said in urgency.

"There's nothing left to discuss about it."  He replied, striding over to Harry.  "Not when there are more important things to talk about."

"Like what?"  Harry asked.  "What could be more important than you dying?  Especially right now?"

"You can defeat him, Harry.  You can defeat Voldemort.  It will be hard, and it will take everything you have, but you can do it."  His eyes looked strenuously in Harry's, and he gripped the boy's shoulder.  "You need to leave Hogwarts.  After this year, you mustn't come back.  Take Granger and Weasley with you, they are in far too deep with you to pull back now.  Not that they would, they would follow you to your death if that's what you needed."

Harry had the sudden image of his best friends dying in place of him, and he felt sick just thinking about it.  The worst part was the reality of the statement; Harry knew they would.  Hell, they pretty much had on several occasions.

"What do we need to do?"  Harry asked dryly.

Dumbledore walked passed him and dug in his desk drawer.  He threw Slytherin's locket on the top of the desk.  Harry picked up the horcrux and turned it over in his hands.  "It's a fake.  A man who calls, or called, himself R.A.B stole the real one.  Look inside."

Harry opened the locket and took out the small folded piece of parchment inside.  He peered up at his professor before reading aloud:

"To the Dark Lord,

I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret.  I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.  I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

-RAB"

It had been for nothing; all of it.  They didn't have to go to that cave, Dumbledore didn't have to drink that potion, no one had to have a brush with death because of the inferi.  Dumbledore wouldn't have been at the top of that tower when the Death Eaters attacked.  If only they would have known, things might have been different.  Maybe Hermione wouldn't have to be recovering...  But what was done was done, and there was nothing they could do to change it.  They'd gone in having hope, and they had such a sense of accomplishment when they'd returned with that locket.  Now, that hope was gone, along with several other things.

Harry inhaled loudly, then let it out, setting the object back on the desk.  “We need to find the real one.”

“And the others.”  Dumbledore added.  “There are six of them we thought, do you remember?” Harry nodded, hands plastered to his sides.  “The horcrux you destroyed during your second year was Tom’s diary, and now this horcrux is a locket from his mother.  I have all reason to believe that the rest of these horcruxes will be of sentimental value, making them easier to find.”

“So one down, five to go.”  Harry commented with fake simplicity.  Dumbledore made it sound as though it was an easy  task, even when it’d taken him years to locate the locket, which turned out to be fake anyway.

“No, four.”  He placed another piece of jewelry on the tabletop.  Harry examined it from his post.  It was a ring, quite small, but it had a black stone in the middle.  It was quite boring to him if he were to be honest.  He wondered why Voldemort would want the said ring.  Harry looked up at him.

I found that about a month ago. I was able to trace it back to Tom’s grandfather; it contributes to my theory about sentiment.  Three of the six meant something to him, why wouldn’t the others?”  He explained, moving forward.  “Voldemort is very consistent.  He has his own rules, and he does not break them.”

“But, when we do find them, if we find them, how do we destroy them?”  Harry asked.

“Carefully, and without doubt.”  Dumbledore raised his hand to his eyes and motioned it around as if he were flaunting it.  “I was desperate.  I wasn’t certain.  It takes a very special kind of destruction to kill a horcrux.  You must damage it’s container beyond magical repair, and that is very hard to do.  Not only do you have to find the rest of the horcruxes, but you must find something to destroy them.  Remember Harry, horcruxes can be deadly.  You will need to be very careful.”

“Well, do you have any ideas on what kind of things I would need?”

“I do, but I think it’s important to take the time to figure that for yourself.”  The professor began to hike up the stairs to his hovering bedchambers.  Harry opened his mouth in protest.  How could Dumbledore send him off on a mission and not give him the necessary clues to fulfill it?   _This is madness._  He thought.  Only a squeak was able to come from his throat before he was cut off.  “I believe it’s about time for dinner.  You should probably attend if you don’t want to go hungry.  Goodnight.”

  
The door to the headmaster’s quarters slammed shut, and suddenly Harry was standing alone in the dark room, the only light coming in from the top windows Dumbledore had been too lazy to close.


	4. Stained Glass

Walking to the guillotine would have been easier, at least then he wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen afterwards.   Ron stepped into McGonagall’s office, his nerves masking his memory to knock, he spotted her sitting at her desk, the great stack of papers dwindling down by the second.

“Ah,”  she said dully in recognition without looking up from her papers.  “There you are.  I don’t think I need to explain why you’re here, do I?”

“No,”  He responded quietly, turning scarlet and dipping his head down to avoid her gaze.

“Good.  I’ll have you know that if that ever happens again, you’ll be expelled.”  She finished the packet and placed it on the stack near her feet.  When she looked at him she saw the boy she remembered from the previous six years, not the one who stood against her in the classroom.  McGonagall folded her hands neatly on the desk.  “That was very unlike you, Weasley-”

“I know,”  He cut her off and shrugged, reaching behind his head to scratch the back of his neck while forcing an awkward grin.  “Tough week I suppose?”

The raising of an eyebrow caused more wrinkles on her forehead and she huffed.  Ron’s forced laughter subsided.  “Seventy-five house points have been taken from Gryffindor due to your actions this afternoon.”

“Seventy-five?”  Ron exclaimed in disbelief.  “That’s a lot!”

“Well, it was either that or have you manually clean Miss Granger’s bedpans, and I figured I might spare her that experience.  I am punishing you after all, not her.”

“You say you’re punishing me, yet you take away all of Gryffindor’s house points?”

“Yes, you will have to take responsibility for that.  Gryffindor might lose, but all the backlash falls on you.  Fair?”

Ron didn’t respond.

“Besides, you and Potter got fifty points each for your participation in defending the tower, Miss Granger sixty for her bravery in defending you; I don’t think it’ll affect the score too much.”

He sighed and sat down on the arm of the adjacent chair.  “Are you going to fail me?”

“No.”  Ron looked at her for the first time since he’d arrived.  Though her facial expression was dry, there was something else behind her dark eyes.  “I told you my conditions for leaving the classroom, you adhered to it, even if it was in a way I didn’t expect of approve of.  I do not go back on my word; I should have made myself more clear.”

Bells rang hallelujah in the ginger’s mind, and a smile crept to his face.  He wouldn’t have to explain to his mother the T on his report card, thus explaining what he did for Hermione and what she’d done for him; that was a conversation he never wanted to have.  Anyone in his family finding out about the two of them would only cause teasing, among other issues, like not letting her stay with them over the summer, or leaving them alone in any form.  Nothing would happen, but they didn’t know that.

“You’re mother would have done that.”  McGonagall spoke suddenly, Ron’s eyes widened in confusion.  “I always had to expect those kinds of things from her when she was a student.  I guess I should've expected it from her son as well.  Now go on; out with you!  And remember, if you ever do that again, I will be the first to sign your expulsion papers.”

“Yes ma’am.” With the pivot of his heel, Ron exited the suddenly warm room.  He adjusted his collar, then used the tip of his tie to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on his skin.  Could have been a lot worse.  He thought positively.  Everyone knew McGonagall as the strict teacher; she was the last one you wanted catching you out of bed in the middle of the night.  Hell, even Snape would be better.  However. despite this, she did shock the trio on occasion.  

“It unscrews the other way…” Ron smiled, remembering what she’d whispered to Peeves as he tried loosening a water valve during their fifth year.  She had a mischievous side, that McGonagall; she was an ex-Gryffindor after all.  The ginger currently thanked God for it too.  He began wondering about the trouble she got into when she was his age; the endless possibilities rattled him.  They all seemed so unlike her, but then again, so did helping the school’s poltergeist.

He and Hermione had gotten into more than he and his professor had.  His chest to suddenly became heavy at the realization.  McGonagall’s office was far from the infirmary, and he was certain he couldn’t even get there before curfew, but he wasn’t going to act like he hadn’t been out after hours before.  For a moment he lingered in the middle of the desolate hall, contemplating his decision.  He scoffed, then began his journey down the moving staircase to the third floor.  He wondered about Harry.   _I don’t need to tell him, he’ll have known where I’ve gone off to.  Even if he don’t, I’ll just explain later.  What’s the worst that could have happened to me?_  Ron rose his eyes in response to his own question.  If there was one thing he’s learned from being at Hogwarts with ‘The Chosen One’, it’s that the school isn’t exactly as secure as they make it seem.  Everytime he thinks he’s seen it all, another situation arises.  First year, Voldemort was on the back of their professor’s head, second year, a basilisk, third year, an escapee from Azkaban.  He needn’t go on, he’d already proved his point to himself.

Instead, he thought of the previous happenings of the day.  He felt slightly guilty for what had happened with Hermione and their 'disagreement'.  However, it annoyed him that she was so quick to jump on him, but that's just her and he'd known that since they met.  She could have worse qualities about her.  Ron thought.  He descended the staircase.  It felt odd.  It was barely six, yet there wasn't a single shuffle in the castle aside from his own.  He expected the teachers to be out and about, but even they decided to obey their guidelines.  The curfew enforced after Dumbledore's death was putting a strain on many students, especially those in astronomy, who now had to study the stars from their dorm windows.  Thankfully, Ron was not one of those students.  

He hopped onto the landing for the sole purpose of listening to the echo, and look to the closed doors of the infirmary.  It was unlikely Madam Pomfrey had gone to bed, but with nothing to do it was a safe assumption she'd returned to her chambers for the rest of the evening.  Thinking it was safe to enter, he pushed one of the doors open enough to slip inside, and let it close softly behind him.  It was as if he'd traveled on time.  He knew the brightness of the setting sun from mere seconds ago, the drawn curtains disguised it to midnight.  But even in the dark it wasn't hard to find his target.  

He knew she'd been in a bed far down the left side and figured she hadn't moved; the bright ball of white light in the sudden darkness captured his eyes.  In the seconds he stared it shot over to him.  A small ache radiated behind his eyes at the brightness.

"It's me."  He insisted, attempting to wave away the ball.

"Ron?" The single word question was squeaked from the far corner.  He the corner of his lips turned up slightly at the voice, finding comfort in knowing she couldn't see the small detail from a distance.

"Yeah. I just said that."

A small noise of shock came from her and she withdrew her interrogation ball.  He followed in its wake. It hovered above them, casting what resembled strong moonlight over the pair.  In the faint blue he saw a book in her hands and her wand at her side, placed neatly on the crowded side table. She folded her page and closed her book, then handed it to him to put elsewhere.  Hermione rubbed her eyes before looking at him.

"What are you doing here?"  She asked.  "Isn't it late?"

"It's a little after six."  He responded, grabbing the nearest chair and straddling it, resting his arms on the back.  "Might as well be eleven though, I'll get in trouble either way if they find out I'm in here."

"It's only six?"  She questioned, seemingly ignoring his attempt to joke.  Her eyebrows rose when he nodded.  Hermione sighed.  "It's going to be a long night."  Ron was about to ask her what she meant by that but as he opened his mouth she cut him off.  "After you guys left I fell asleep again, woke up about 15 minutes ago. I'm not tired anymore, and probably made my inner clock all silly."  

"That's tragic."  He laughed, but pursed his lips when she shot a warning glare.  "What?  You'll get your meds in a couple hours and you'll fall straight to sleep. Or do you want me to play the harp for you?"

"I'm not fluffy."

"That death look suggests otherwise."  

"Don't make me laugh,"

She smiled at his comment and turned her head to gaze at the curtain.  "I'm sore from surgery."

"What did they do to you anyway?"  The ginger turned blonde by blue light asked quietly, secretly not wanting to know.  "They didn't, uh, take anything out or put anything in did they?"

"Well, no."  She answered.  Hermione Rose her hands to her face and picked at a loose hangnail.  "They gave me blood and stocked up the wounds.  I don't know how bad it is, I don't know what the scars are going to look like; I don't remember much, all I remember is pain."  She paused to peer at her visitor again.  He had his arms folded over the back of the chair, and his chin resting on them, looking at her.  She sighed, which caused a sharp pain to penetrate through the constant ache.  However, she made no indication of discomfort.  Maybe she was used to it?  Or maybe she just didn't want him to worry.  "What did it look like, Ron?"  

Memories he didn't want to recall flooded his mind.  Blood.  That's all he remembered.  How it covered his hands, the warmness of it.  How it dried on his clothes and formed a layer over his skin.  It was stickier than he thought, and smelled a lot worse, especially because it was hers.  The same girl who laid lifeless in front of him days ago was now asking him to describe easily the worst moment of his life.  She gazed into him with pressing eyes.  He almost felt as if his mind was under attack, that his thoughts were being read by her.  He inhaled loudly.  "I don't really remember either.  I think I was too panicked."

"Oh."  She expressed quietly, looking away.  "I guess I'll find out when I see the scars then."  

Ron looked away too.  He suddenly became interested in the items resting on her table.  Stacks upon stacks of books made him wonder how the wood was still standing under all that weight.  Papers were strewn everywhere in all shapes and sizes.  Her wand was half hanging off the edge, along side a half empty glass of water and a small dish of pills.  He straightened his back to get a better view; it was not a medication he recognized.

“They’re morphine tablets.”  Her voice brought his attention to her.  He raised his eyebrows in question as if he hadn’t heard what she said.  If he hadn’t given a nod, she would have repeated the statement.  When their eyes met, he could sense the absence of words left unsaid and the supposed gratuity behind them.  yet, Ron didn’t speak; neither did she.  It was the most uncomfortable silence he’d ever experienced.  Static radiated from the two of them, it made every hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  He suddenly became hyper-aware.  He could sense the movement of her hand from her chest to her side, and every flutter of her eyelids.  He was looking for something, but not from curiosity, from nervousness.  He wasn’t even sure what he was afraid of.  Abruptly, two breaths filled the gaping silence and the two spoke simultaneously.

“About what happened earlier-”

“I apologize for the way I acted, it was uncalled for and out of line.”

Ron and Hermione gaped at eachother.  Hermione closed her mouth, but Ron waved her on to continue.

“It’s just- I don’t think you and Harry were understand what I was saying.  I was half drugged, and looking back on it I see how badly I explained everything.”

“I get it now.”  Ron assured, shrugging.  “You explained yourself fine.  I didn’t even know anything was wrong with you, aside from being all pale and stuff.”

“Maybe you thought that, but in my own head I wasn’t conveying the correct message.”  It was evident Hermione was getting frustrated, but not at Ron, at herself.  She struggled, and struggled, but she couldn’t find the words she was looking for.  This was very unlike Hermione, who was practically a walking dictionary; feeding words who the boys as they wrote their essays or tried to win arguments.  The ginger looked at the dish of pills again, and wonder what exactly the nurses from St. Mungo’s put in there besides mophine.  She ran her fingers through her hair and huffed.  “Maybe if you ask me a question it’ll be better.”

“Okay…”  He trailed off in question, then slightly adjusted his head to study her from an angle.  “Do you honest to God trust Malfoy?”

“That’s it!”  She withdrew her hand from her forehead to point at him excitedly.  “That’s the word I was looking for; trust!”

Ron smiled uncomfortably.

“What I was trying to say before was that I strongly believe Malfoy on the basis of being on our side. I saw him fighting, so did Harry, and so did you, and from what I saw I think he really meant it.  He actually protected me when I nearly fell when he had no reason to other than that would be one less soldier fighting on the battlefield for what he wants.  I’m sure his motivations are much different than ours, but in the scheme of things that doesn’t matter. The enemy of our enemy is our ally, and that is exactly what he is.  I don’t like him, I don’t respect him, and I trust him in regards to personal matters about as far as I could throw you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to dismiss his help in defeating,”  She paused, inhaling and closing her eyes.  “In defeating Voldemort.  Do you understand?”

He was mute, just looking at her. “So, you don’t trust Malfoy?”

“In all other ways besides that he’s against Death Eaters, no, I don’t trust him.  With everything he’s ever done to us, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Oh.”  He responded quietly.  “That makes more sense.”

“Exactly.”  She sighed.  “Now was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“Not really, other than that I’m sorry for raising my voice at you.”

“It’s alright.”  She shrugged.  “I believe you when you said you were just trying to be heard.  I know I can get loud sometimes.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a way he could not control.  Everything with Hermione was easy.  Laughing was easy.  Talking was easy.  Fighting, then talking about it was easy.  Though it was easy, it was almost as if they never wanted to do it.  In anger, they avoided each other for some odd reason he could never understand.  He wondered if it was because they knew, deep in their hearts, that they would be fast friends again if they’d just sit down and have a conversation about it, so they stayed angry to spite the other.  It was almost like a game; how long until one breaks, and who will it be?  After the poisoning, he’d made his decision, it had gone too far.  He almost had to die in order for them to start talking again.  The game was over.  Even if she didn’t think so, you can’t play with only one player.  However, he was sure she was sick of the emotional roller coaster too.

“Do you think you could quiz me for potions?”  Hermione’s request broke him from his thoughts.  “I need to make up my finals and I thought I might as well utilize the extra studying time I have.”

“Are you serious?”  He chuckled, looking at the book she was referencing to.  “You almost died a couple days ago and you’re worried about finals.”

“Yes, they’re very important!  I’m sure I wouldn’t be worrying if I’d died.”

He shook his head in disbelief and reached for a book.  They then spent their time going over practice questions.  When they ran out of those, Ron began making up his own.  This took much longer as he would forget the answer and have to flip through the pages to find it.  There then came a chapter Hermione wasn’t familiar with, as she’d missed the class due to illness and no one had informed her that they’d covered it.  To ease her panic, Ron told her he’d read it to her and she agreed willingly.  It seemed like a good plan, but halfway through he glanced over the edge of the book only to see closed eyes and the rise and fall of the girl’s chest.  He smiled again, then bookmarked the page and line number before getting up, reaching for her covers, and pulling them to her shoulders.

He studied her then.  Noticing a yellow bruise on the side of her neck, he touched it lightly with his fingertips.  She was so sound she did not stir.  Some people looked dead when they slept, others looked fearful, but not Hermione.  In fact, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of glee detecting the slight smile in her unconsciousness.   She was calm, she was peaceful and happy.  That was all he ever wanted for her.

He wished she hadn’t gone up those stairs.  For if she hadn’t they wouldn't be in the place they were.  If fate wanted to have it’s way, then he wished he could do better to protect her, just like she did him.  He wished he had better control of his anger and vengeance to see who really needed the help out there.  Most of all, he wished he could have been more aware to push her out of the way as she tried to save him.

She tried to save him.

He thought about it over and over.  He couldn’t stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t find the courage to say something.  In watching her and thinking about the events of the night, he figured out why; it was so easy to talk to her, he didn’t want to ask because he was afraid of the answer.  It was odd; the answer he was afraid of was what he wanted to hear most in the world, because it would mean she felt the same way.  But what if she did?  Then what?  It wasn’t the time, and as much as it hurt, he understood it.

Exhaling through his nose, he stroked her hair, and lightly pressed his lips to her forehead before tapping her wand with his fingers and turning out the little ball of light illuminating them.

“Thank you,”  He whispered, then turned to leave the room.  The chair, remnants of his presence, remained wrongly turned near her bedside.  When he reached the large swinging doors, he looked back and whispered, "but don't ever do that again."

The halls were just as silent as they were when he arrived.  He stood there for a moment, taking in the nothingness. He remained until his ears began to ring from the desire to detect something.  Ron cleared his throat in an attempt to get the annoying ringing to stop, but it made no long term difference.  He tried moving his finger around the inside of his ear.  It made no difference.  Even though the bottoms of his shoes caused an echo across the castle, the drums in his head wouldnt behave.  It was as if someone was constantly mishandling a microphone.  The ginger strode straight, and tugged on his lobe.  The ringing stopped, but not because of any action made by him.  It took him a while to notice, but the noise had faded due to an actual noise being present.  It was so faint he almost walked on by, but there was a soft sob coming from the left lavatory.  

His first instinct told him it was Harry, as he could think of a million reasons why his best friend would be sobbing, it's one of the reasons Ron opened the door.  Whoever was in there, Harry or not, seemed to be in a great deal of distress.  Sobbing, choking on their tears, coughing, and even vomiting elicited from behind the cracked door; the last thing he wanted to do was startle them and end up with a wand in his face.  He'd had enough of that for the rest of his life.

The door slowly creeped open, and he saw the face in the mirror before they turned around to look at him.  His skin matched the ivory tile beneath them, and his usually slick hair was left hanging disheveled.  Wide, grey eyes met Ron's in not their usual look of torment, but fear.  Rancid acid stench hit him like a storm cloud as he pushed the door open completely, but it didn't distract him enough to avert his attention from the others action of drawing their wand.  Ron swung his arm and the weapon cascaded to the floor.  

"Relax," He said harshly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The other's attention was focused on the exact place where his wand hit, looking devastated.  Eventually, he peered up.  Fear had not left him, but it was evident he was filled more with confusion than anything else.    Ron looked around, and confusion consumed his features too.  There were several blankets tucked away in the far corner, along with a tray of food (which was half eaten), and several piles of clothes stacked near it. On one of the stall doors was a large sidial he couldn't put meaning behind.  It looked like something Hermione would have shown him in her Ancient Runes textbook.  "Are you," he paused, staring at the stall door.  "Living here?"

"Did you seriously think I was going to go back to the commonroom and dorms with what I've done?"  Draco sneered, causing Ron to shrug. "Thanks to you, I've lost everything."

"Thanks to me?  I didn't do anything beside run up and try and help you, you fat git!  You can't even take responsibility when you do the right thing-"

"Is there a 'right thing'?  Or is it just a matter of opinion?"  Draco yelled back with more intensity than Ron had ever seen from him before.  He began to panic with tears in his eyes as he struggled to keep the dam of all anxiety standing.  The tall boy stood with his arms loose at his sides, trying his best to keep his lips barely parted and not open completely.  "I just got disowned and kicked out of my house!  My whole family hates me and some of them even want to kill me.  I have no where to go; I just made it so I have no side in this and that was the most dangerous thing I could ever do, not only just for me but for my parents too.  God only knows what he's done to them..."

Ron stood there with his heart rate escalating by the second.  Draco was an injured animal, and he wasn't to be touched.  He watched as the blonde scratched furiously at his forearm.  Swollen redness spread over a serpent wrapped skull inked into his skin.  Ron swallowed.  

"Harry was right."  He mumbled, his company didn't seem to hear him.

“It needs to go.”  Malfoy whispered, ignoring the throbbing pain in his throat.  He closed his eyes given their wetness made him unable to see anyway.  “It needs to go.”  Before Ron could stop him, he pivoted on his heel and the sound of glass shattering echoed across the bathroom.  Instinctively, the ginger shielded his face with his arms and took several steps back to avoid the shards.  When he looked, a whole panel of mirror was missing, revealing distinctive brink underneath.  The blonde was kneeling in the shards; Ron pitied him, though he hated him, it was a hard scene to watch.  From the floor, he used his free hand to grasp the bleeding one tightly.  His knuckles were bare, and he suffered lacerations across his wrist and hand, but the dark mark remained untouched.

He shook from his position, staying completely silent.  That was until a few moments passed and he whispered something inaudible.

“What?”  Ron questioned softly, stepping forward.

“They can see.”  He admitted.   “They can tap into my senses whenever they want.  They can see what I see, know what I know.  That was the contract before I-”  He trailed off and sighed.  “It needs to destroyed, I can’t change what I’ve done.”

“Look, why don’t we just get you to the infirmary?”  Ron ignored the information being told to him, it was important, but not at that moment; he would tell Harry and Hermione later, but he just wanted to get out of the situation.  So, he began to reason.  “I’ll say you slipped on some water and fell into the glass or something.  We’re both prefects, I’m sure we won’t get in too much troub-”  His stomach lurched straight into his heart, and he had to turn to prevent himself from vomiting a second time that week.

Before he could protest, his companion had grabbed a glass shard and pressed it hard against the length of his already injured forearm with a grunt.  Even facing the opposite direction, Ron could hear Malfoy’s excessive breathing as he did what he swore needed to be done.  Flinching, he turned back around at the sound of a shuffle.  Malfoy had stood holding both arms from his body; one holding the makeshift weapon and the other housing the crimson river.  Ron held his hand in front of him in warning.  “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove but-”

 **  
**“My name is Draco Malfoy,”  He started, looking the other directly in the eye.  “And I’m on your side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry this took so long to update. My life has been exceedingly busy as I've just gotten a new job and school has started up again. I am not letting go of this fic, I promise. I will post new chapters as soon as I can. I also apologize for this chapter in general, I can write much better, but for whatever reason I have severe writer's block. Hopefully the next chapters will be better.

**Author's Note:**

> What happens to Hermione? Where did Dumbledore go? What's Draco so afraid of? All these questions will be answered in the next chapter which I assure you is coming soon!
> 
> Also, I just want to say that there will be some other ships than what is listed, but I wanted you guys to see them develop and kind of take you by surprise.


End file.
